A Moment Apart

Posted on Fri Aug 14th, 2026 @ 10:05pm by Lieutenant Thomas Fletcher

1,437 words; about a 7 minute read

Mission: Preamble
Location: New Bajor

Tom found the entire family exactly where he expected to.

Taran was repairing a piece of agricultural equipment that had almost certainly not required repairing before he had started examining it.

Pela was reading beneath the shade of a tree.

Ralen was attempting to assist his father in ways that appeared to be creating considerably more work than they were preventing.

And Jera was pretending not to watch the road every time a vehicle passed.

The afternoon sun hung comfortably overhead as Tom crossed the yard, a PADD tucked beneath one arm.

"Good news."

That immediately attracted everyone's attention.

Experience had taught the Kalens that Tom's definition of good news could encompass anything from improved water pressure to accidentally volunteering himself for several weeks of additional work.

"What sort of good news?" Taran asked.

Tom held up the PADD.

"I've got an arrival date."

The reaction was immediate.

Not dramatic.

Not loud.

But immediate.

Pela lowered her book.

Ralen stopped helping.

Even Taran looked up from the machinery.

Only Jera remained carefully neutral.

"An actual date?" Lenara called from the doorway.

Tom nodded.

"An actual date."

That earned a level of surprise usually reserved for natural disasters and government efficiency.

"When?"

"Three days."

For a moment nobody spoke.

Three days.

After weeks of delays, estimates and repeated assurances that the Venture would arrive 'shortly,' three days felt strangely precise.

Strangely final.

"Well."

Taran returned his attention to the machine.

"That's inconvenient."

Tom laughed.

"Only slightly."

"Very inconvenient," Ralen corrected.

"I agree."

The boy folded his arms.

"Can you tell them no?"

"Still no."

"Thought I'd check."

"Fair."

Pela closed her book.

"They made you wait nearly a month."

"That's not entirely their fault."

"It should still count for something."

Tom considered that.

"You may have a future in diplomacy."

"That wasn't diplomacy."

"No. It wasn't."

The conversation drifted elsewhere after that.

Dinner plans.

Weather forecasts.

The latest progress on the aqueduct project.

Normal things.

Yet Tom couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed.

Every now and then someone would glance his way.

Not often.

Just enough.

As though they were all quietly recalculating what three days actually meant.

For weeks his departure had existed somewhere beyond the horizon.

Now it had a date attached to it.

Now it was real.

---

Only later, as evening settled across the farm and the others gradually disappeared inside, did Jera finally find him alone beside the firepit.

The day's warmth still lingered in the air despite the fading sunlight.

Somewhere beyond the farmhouse, one of the irrigation pumps hummed quietly as it pushed water through the network Tom had spent weeks helping improve. The sound had become strangely familiar. Comforting, even.

The fire crackled softly in front of him.

Beyond it, the fields stretched toward the distant hills, their outlines gradually dissolving into shadow beneath a sky that was beginning to surrender itself to the stars.

Tom sat with a mug balanced loosely between both hands.

For perhaps the first time all day, nobody needed anything from him.

No construction coordinator wanted an opinion.

No survey team required a decision.

No eleven-year-old assistant was attempting to dismantle something important.

Just quiet.

The chair opposite scraped softly against the ground.

He glanced up.

Jera lowered herself into the seat, tucking one leg beneath her as she settled beside the fire.

For a few moments neither of them spoke.

The silence felt comfortable.

Not awkward.

Not uncertain.

The sort that only existed between people who had spent enough time in one another's company to stop worrying about filling every moment with conversation.

The flames reflected faintly in her eyes as she stared into the fire.

Behind them the farmhouse glowed warmly through the windows. Laughter drifted occasionally through the evening air before disappearing once more beneath the gentle chorus of insects and distant machinery.

Eventually she spoke.

"So it's real now."

Tom followed her gaze toward the darkening horizon.

Somewhere beyond it, hidden amongst countless stars, sat a Galaxy-class starship and the future he had spent weeks avoiding thinking about.

"Yeah."

The answer emerged quieter than he'd intended.

Jera nodded slowly.

The fire popped between them.

"I thought we'd have more time."

Tom smiled.

Not because it was funny.

Because he understood exactly what she meant.

"So did I."

The words lingered between them.

Neither seemed entirely certain what to do with them.

For a while they simply sat together watching the fire burn lower.

The stars continued appearing overhead.

One by one.

Patiently.

As though they had all the time in the universe.

Eventually Jera shifted in her chair.

There was a nervous energy to the movement that immediately caught Tom's attention.

For the first time that evening she seemed uncertain.

He'd seen her ask questions about warp field theory, plasma distribution networks and Federation engineering doctrine without a hint of hesitation.

This was different.

"Tom?"

The use of his first name was rare enough that he glanced up immediately.

"Hm?"

She stared into the fire for a few moments longer before finally gathering the courage to continue.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Jera took a breath.

Then another.

As though she had rehearsed the question a dozen times and still wasn't entirely sure how to begin.

"If I wanted to apply to Starfleet Academy..."

Tom felt himself smile before she had even finished speaking.

There it was.

The question he'd been expecting for weeks.

He leaned back slightly in his chair and watched the fire for a moment.

"I was beginning to wonder how long it would take you to ask."

Jera groaned softly.

"You knew?"

"You ask an awful lot of questions about starships for somebody who isn't interested in leaving home."

That earned a reluctant smile.

The smile faded quickly.

For a few moments she stared into the flames.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was quieter.

"I love my family."

Tom nodded.

"I know."

"I love it here."

"I know that too."

The fire crackled between them.

Beyond the farmhouse the fields stretched away into darkness, illuminated only by moonlight and the occasional glow of distant construction equipment.

Jera followed his gaze.

"But..."

Tom smiled.

"You want to see what's out there."

The young Bajoran looked back at him.

"You do?"

"Heard it a thousand times."

A faint chuckle escaped him.

"Kids from farming worlds. Mining colonies. Space stations. Small towns. Doesn't matter where."

He gestured upward.

"They all think they're the first person who's ever looked at the stars and wondered what was beyond them."

That finally earned a laugh.

The tension eased slightly.

"Would they take me?" she asked.

This time the question felt different.

Not theoretical.

Not a dream.

A real possibility.

"Starfleet Academy?"

Tom considered the question carefully.

Not because he doubted the answer.

Because he wanted her to understand it.

"I think they might."

Jera visibly brightened.

"But don't underestimate how hard it is to get there."

The excitement remained.

Good.

That was the correct response.

Another silence settled between them.

This one felt lighter.

"Do your parents know?"

The brightness faded slightly.

"Not yet."

Tom nodded.

That answer told him everything he needed to know.

"It'd be easier if I had a recommendation from a serving officer."

There it was.

Again.

This time Tom laughed outright.

"I was wondering when we were getting to that part."

Jera looked briefly embarrassed.

Only briefly.

"Tell your parents."

"What if they don't want me to go?"

Tom was quiet for a moment.

The question carried more weight than she probably realised.

He found himself thinking about Sussex. About Grace. About every departure that had ever felt impossible right up until the moment it happened.

Leaving home was never easy.

Neither was watching somebody you loved leave it.

The fire crackled softly between them.

Behind Jera, the farmhouse windows glowed warmly against the darkness. Somewhere inside, he could hear Lenara laughing at something Ralen had undoubtedly broken or misplaced.

It struck him suddenly that this was exactly why the decision frightened her.

Not because she doubted herself.

Because she loved this place.

Because she loved them.

Then he smiled.

"I'll send the recommendation anyway."

Jera stared.

"Really?"

"Really."

He leaned back in his chair.

"But only if you understand what you're asking for."

The stars had begun appearing overhead now.

One by one.

Patiently.

"What it actually means."

The excitement in her eyes didn't fade.

If anything, it grew.

"Thank you."

She stood.

So did he.

Their hug felt less like a goodbye and more like the beginning of something.

Tom suspected that was exactly what it was.

 

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